A Far Horizon

A microfiction prompted by a photograph I once took

I looked at the bag I'd packed. Pretty sad: it wasn't even full. But I was trying to save room — room for my books, and my pens and journals, and my ancient Sony Walkman with the last few cassette tapes I still owned. I might be back here someday, but in the meantime I had a whole lot of travel ahead of me. No money. No food. No companions. Just me, an indifferently packed suitcase, a battered pair of Keds, and a far horizon…